chase after the wind
by Chaz01
Summary: There is a point, they say, where a person can either choose to become great and set themselves aside for the sake of others or can remain wrapped up in their ego. Ayane has just reached that point. Finis
1. Default Chapter

" Vanity of Vanities" spoke Quablic, " all things are vanity and chase after the wind"  
  
Ec 1:2  
  
Rated : PG-13 ( for now)  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own, not mine  
  
Authors notes: Well, I don't have much to say... I wrote a story called sympathy for the devil that can be seen as a prelude to this, but neither story depends on the other...In any case I will shut up now and hopefully let this speak for itself... please R and R....  
  
It was a cold and rainy night. A night from whence monsters and nightmares were born. A night where the souls of those who were dead seemed to scream in one loud voice, in chorus with the thunder, 'we still live'. The earth was soaked and emitted the same smell as that of a dead corpse. Nothing seemed right with the world. Indeed it was as if it was ripping itself apart, rather then face what was coming, the coming of fate.  
  
It was through this wasteland where dead and living intermingled, where the real and the nightmares seemed to be one and the same, that the stranger past. Normally she would have been stopped long before she had gotten this far into the woods, but even the most vigilant guards were still human. She walked slowly and deliberately, the wind fighting her every step of the way. She wore a cloak with a hood that hid her face in shadow. She stood about 5'7 and looked to be more of a dream then an actuality. The only way that one could tell her sex was due to her garments sticking in certain places. Other than this she appeared to have no distinct attribute and had a surreal feel about her.  
  
The woods she was deep in were ones where just about anyone else would have been killed. It was the last refuge for the shinobi, the great fallen warriors of a dead era, an old ideology for an even older race.. It was ironic, she thought, that it was through them that a rebirth would occur. The woods, which took on a particularly ominous look at night, now seemed pure evil. They seemed a place of nothingness. The trees swayed in the downpour as the water feel threw the leaves like the blood gushed from an open and deep wound. It did not help matters that every sound took on a threatening and potentially deadly quality to her ears. The wind seemed to howl at her to stop and she was quite sure she had heard her dead master's voice telling her to turn back several times, but this didn't matter. She was not content, as her master was, to allow things to occur. There is a chance, she kept repeating to herself, there is a chance.  
  
She was 'gifted' with the same 'blessing' that was given to Cassandra or Terraces. She had the gift of foresight. How it worked or why she did not understand, nor did she no how to turn it on or off. To her it was as constant as the thunder that seemed to beat out a heavenly rythim. Perhaps it was because of the causality of the universe or perhaps because the gods had chosen her. In any case, it was because of this power that she ventured into the ever worsting storm. It seemed to her appropriate that this tempest outside of her, which threatened to destroy her body, should parallel the maelstrom inside her that threatened to devour her soul.   
  
Her eyes scanned the bleak and desolate horizon that seemed to contain nothing but hopelessness, looking for a sign. She was searching for a very particular abode. One where the daughter of fate lived. It was she who would decide the fate of the race. Ever since her master had died she had been having more and more trouble focusing her visions. Yet she had managed to pyt together that some altercation in the very nature of human life was about to take place and that it was this girl who was the variable.  
  
She had seen things. Such horrible and unrelenting truths that it was a miracle that she had maintained her sanity. Even this was fleeting, for the question of reality still roared in her mind. If there was only one reality, one unchangeable principle of the universe, she had already lost, for her's was a struggle against fate.  
  
Her weary and tired eyes came to rest on ad small light. It was the only thing that cut through the infinite darkness and seemed, to her at least, to be the last glimmer of hope. She pressed onward towards the light, always heedful of the things that may lurk in the shadows. As she drew closer to the house she began to take note of it's more delicate features. It was in the traditional style of a Japanese house, but it was very small. It seemed to be more of a hut then a house. The walls seemed hastily constructed and were already showing wear from the storm. It did not seem to be a happy house either, for she could sense the presence of years of suffering and pain. This was someone's refuge from the cold and desolate world, and it seemed wrong to disturb the scene, albeit un-serene.   
  
  
  
She no longer had a choice though and she approached the door. It was through this door that the key to the future lay. For it was the one who resided in this house who would either bring salvation or utter destruction. It was the homeowner's fate to rebuild the world, or burn it to ash. It was with these thoughts that her shaky hand neared the door. She turned the knob and the door seemed to fling itself open of it's own accord. It was as if the door had been made for the sole purpose of allowing her entry into the chamber of fate.  
  
What happened next, occurred in a time that was as fast as one could blink, and yet the sequence appeared to her to move in slow motion. Silhouetted in the light that poured out of the house was a sole figure. The door's opening had made it impossible to gain a subtle entry, though the cloaked woman was quite convinced that any entry would have alerted the houses resident. The resident was a woman, who was extremely beautiful, but with a deep sadness that seemed to pour from her essence, as steadily as the pounding rain. Such beauty didn't seem to fit the heavy heart and the soulless eyes that were interwoven in her. Her hair, which was purple, moved carelessly as she sprang up and grabbed the woman in the cloak. Their eyes met and the prophet uttered one word that caused this purple haired woman to spare her life. The word was 'Ganre ( Spelling?).'  
  
" Who are you and what do you want?" The woman asked in a cold and stoic, though annoyed, voice. The prophet was still pinned against the wall and knew that it was now her fate that hung in the balance.   
  
" I have come to tell you, you must choose correctly." The woman said, hurriedly, in fear that she would be dead before her message was relayed.   
  
" What does that mean..." The other asked, still in the cold and emotionless voice.  
  
" All things happen for a reason... Look I can't explain it to you, frankly I don't know myself."  
  
" Then why are you here?" There was more anger in the purple haired woman's voice now.  
  
" Because I exist, because I am real, because I can't stand by idly and watch fate pass me by... You of all people should understand that ideal, it could be said to be the only one you possess."  
  
" You know nothing of me" The woman snarled in retort.  
  
" I know that when you were 4 years old you knew that there was something wrong with you, and that you have been searching for a cure ever since then. I know the only man you love, is a love that is forbidden by just about every system of ethics ever. I know you killed your father. And I know that it is your choice."  
  
For the first time the purple hair woman's eyes betrayed her otherwise cold and emotionless persona. Her eyes showed surprise. "Then why not tell me what choice I have to make" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.  
  
" Because I only know that you are the key, I don't know why or how, but it is you who are the variable in a system of absolutes. You must follow your heart, not your memory. Remember, vanity of Vanities, that is all we retain from our past..." The cloaked woman spoke this and then disappeared into a cloud of smoke and the night, leaving Ayane with nothing but her thoughts.... 


	2. 2

Rating : PG -13 ( For now)  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own, not mine  
  
Authors notes: Well, thanks everyone who reviewed the first ch. They mean a great deal... In any case here is number two.... One quick thing, I leave for the college here in like 2 days, so these may not come as quickly as I'd like, sorry....  
  
" Nothing really matters much it's doom alone that counts. And the one eyed undertaker, he blows a futile horn...." Bob Dylan, Shelter from the storm  
  
Dawn. The light off new sun flowed off the horizon and overwhelmed the forces of the night. Slowly the last and first beat of the cycle sounded, and this was the sound of the roaster crowning. The rays of this new day seemed to hold promise for all begins. And in the wake of death and night, came life and renewal. It was as if god himself had restored to humanity it's garden and given back to the world it's innocent virginity. The light seemed to flow from it's source, pouring over all things and nurturing them all, regardless of the sins of that person, or their father. It seemed as though a new beginning had found it's way to a realm that seemed capable of only producing endings. And all things seemed as they should be, all seemed right with the world.   
  
The light crept slowly from the horizon, extending it's long and lengthy arms and touching everything it saw. There was only one person who witnessed this resurrection, only one who saw the rebirth of the world, and she stood alone, apart from everyone else. Her eyes showed a deep tiredness, but this was 2 fold. She had the look of a person who hadn't slept well the previous night, with deep bags under the brims of her eyes and what appeared to be heavy eyelids seemed to prove this. There was something more there, though, something much deeper. Her eyes seemed to have the same look that old mens gain. It seemed as though, where once raged a brilliant fire, there was nothing left but cinders. The eyes seemed a pathetic shadow of what they had once been, a sick farce of true greatness. They seemed to dead to be alive, and yet they held on for some reason. In any case the light found it's way to her, and she was forced to shield her eyes from the brightness of it's purity.   
  
She really didn't have anything to do that day, which seemed to make everything ten times worse. At least if she had a function, she could take refuge in that, but even that escaped her. She had acted defiantly and was punished accordingly. She was given a fate worse the death, a fate that resembled that of Cain's. She was to exist, but nothing more then that. She thought things over in her mind, for what must have been the 100th time and drew the same conclusion, she had enough of what she needed, and there was no need to gather anything else.  
  
She stretched slowly, allowing herself to indulge in her own humanity, as opposed to simply being a rock. A smile crept onto her face as she allowed her body to tense and then loosen. There was something very real about the feeling of stretching, and she took comfort in that fact. Her stretching was not the normal stretching she did, the kind that served the propose of readying herself for a mission, it was a more fluid stretch. It was the same stretch a person with no training in any fighting style would make. It was universal, and it seemed real enough.   
  
It was during this period that she took on truly human qualities. She allowed her eyes to reflect the emotions within her heart and allowed herself to feel again. It was in these albeit rare moments that she realized that she was still human. There was something very depressing in this 3 or second indulgence, something very sad. It was like knowing Lucifer before his fall and then gazing upon him afterwards. Her beauty only seemed to add to the feeling, it seemed wrong that something so beautiful and pure, should suffer so much. It seemed one of very few true sins.  
  
Her mind inexorable drifted back to the events of the previous night. Who was that person or, more importantly, did they even exist.. A mystery woman simply appearing at her door and prophesying seemed, in the light of day, absurd. Yet there was something very real about their encounter, something so true that it seemed to render the world she looked upon now as a false one. She had only looked upon the stranger for not more then 5 minutes, and yet she felt a kinship there. She felt as if this woman and her had the same pain, just a different way of expressing it. The meaning of the woman's words eluded her, but it wasn't the words that mattered. Words were always such whimsical things, in her eyes. No it was the way in which they were spoken that haunted Ayane. There was an assuredness that she had never heard before in her life. It wasn't arrogance nor was it ranting, the words the cloaked woman spoke seemed spoken with the air of one saying, the sun will rise.   
  
She took a deep breath and sighed. Her eyes looked at the landscape around her abode and she seemed to take everything in. The birds just now woke to their day of neither reaping or sowing, and the woodland creatures seemed to be raising from the dead. The wind blew gently, and caressed her body, as she imaged a gentle mother's hand would. It felt good to have the wind playfully toss her hair and stroke her body. She observed it's effect on the trees and watched as they swayed gently to the motion of the breeze. The woods, which seemed the very pit of hell that night, had taken a very new persona. They seemed now the giver of life, not the great destroyer. She wasn't sure why, but she felt the urge to cry. Of corse she suppressed this at once and turned stoicly away from the new Eden that lay before her. She had her indulgence and she could feel what was left of her humanity being buried again, deep within her.   
  
She made and ate breakfast, though she wasn't hungry. She chopped wood, though she had enough for at least 2 weeks. She attempting to sturdy her walls, though she knew this was futile. And the hours slowly crept by.  
  
Finally she decided to see her brother. He had told her that, under terms of her exile, that she could enter the village once a week to see if any news on her half sister had come, or if there was any use that had been found for her. She really didn't expect anything from either of these conditions. They seemed, to her, to be false hopes. She went anyways. The road to the main village was a long one from where she stayed. No paths had been formed, for the intent was to keep people away from the village, and so she descended deeper and deeper into the ever darkening woods, night's last refuge. She felt no fear at her goings, for she knew the way to the village by heart. She watched as the trees progressively grew closer and closer, chocking out more and more sunlight. The woods became filled with shadows and the ground obscured by darkness. She ventured father and father into the wasteland, until even the birds seemed to scared to sing, until she finally reached her village.  
  
It seemed an oasis in the middle of the desert. It seemingly came out of no where and the contrast was striking to say the least. The grass she stood in currently was up to her hip, but in 2 steps, it rested neatly below her feet. There was also a great deal of sound that floated off the village. The sounds of people busying themselves with this and that. The sounds of children laughing and crying. The sounds of other people. The sun poured through holes that had been cut in the otherwise impenetrable canopy of branches. This only added to the contrast.   
  
There were only four buildings clustered together in this oasis of light. They formed a rectangle. The longer of the 2 buildings, both sitting parallel to the other, were the sleeping places. They were very reminiscent of army barricka, though done with a keen attention to design and fluence. Indeed the compound, as a whole, seemed to flow out of the ground and looked as they it had been present before the fall of man. It seemed a part of that which was around it, not at odd with it. Of the other two buildings, the one facing north was the temple, which stood on slightly elevated ground. The other was the gathering place where the elders met. This was the place in which Hayate's throne resided. Contained within the empty space that the rectangle defined were a training grounds, a place for preparing food and a few animals grazing lazily, out of the reach of the predators who would kill them. Farmland seemed to radiate out from the structure and extended on all sides for about 35 meters. She stood about 10 meters away from this, on the outskirts of the village.   
  
She paused for a moment, considering weather or not she truly wanted to move forward into this place. Her mind came to rest on the idea that there was nothing for her to do at her home and that, although she really didn't want to do this, it was still something to do. She entered the village and, as always, was greeted by cold and menacing stares of the villagers. She really didn't pay any of this heed, she was accustomed to it by now. They all stared at her with malice and she walked by them on an air of aloofness, the way things had always been. She walked slowly and deliberately, being attentive to every step.   
  
She found herself at the building that served as court, gathering place and her brother's throne room. She drew back the gate slowly and found her brother in deep conversation with a villager. Upon her entering he motioned towards a chair and then continued the discourse for several more minutes. When he finally left they gazed upon each other with uttering a word. Finally Hayate broke the silence.  
  
" The chance to redeem yourself has come... They have announced that another tournament is to be held. If we leave tonight we can arrive in time to enter. She will assuredly enter, for she will desire to speak with me..... We must kill the runaway, she has eluded us for far to long. It will be blood for blood, her blood means your salvation, your blood if you fail. Do you understand?"  
  
She gave a stoic nod.  
  
" Good, be ready to depart when the sun has touched the first peek of the Shinza mountains, we depart."  
  
She stood there for a few more seconds, just gazing on him. In spite of herself, she still could not help but blush slightly in his presence. He seemed to her, to be a god among men. She studied the delicate curves of his face and the perfect way his body seemed to flow. Even during this time where he stood and did nothing, he still seemed beautiful to her. She had know that body in her dreams and would willingly give up her life to just touch it once, without the pretense of combat.  
  
" Is there something else?" He asked, clearly annoyed at her presence.  
  
" No" she said cooly and began her journey home. 


	3. 3

Disclaimer: don't own, not mine  
  
Rating: pg-13  
  
Authors notes: I must say that I am sorry for the delay in posting this. As we speak ( or so to speak ) I am in the library typing this. My computer has crashed leaving me without any hope of posting until now, Sundays tend to be dead. I earned u that these would not come nearly as regularly, but I am sorry… here we go…  
  
" I act like sh*t don't phase me, inside it drives me crazy, my insecurities could eat me alive" Marshal Mathers  
  
'She was running, that was all she was sure of. Why or how she was she did not know and at this point had little more influence on her then someone saying that the wind would soon change direction. She was running towards nothing, for the area ahead of her was bleak and empty. Indeed it was the oblivion that would ultimately cast it's shadow on all that lives. IT was the taker of the breath of life that chased her; this was all she was sure of. Her footsteps feel onto the ground, echoing meaninglessly in the great expanse in which she ran. They seem to offer the only evidence of her continued existence. The area around her was nothing. That was the only way to truly describe it, besides her footsteps, her hot breath being forced out of he lungs and the silent noise of her demon, which she heard all to well, there was nothing. She steadily became aware of the strain her body felt, she felt as though she had been running for hours. Her breath was labored and her eyes darted about in desperation, searching for something, anything.  
  
Then the void reseeded reveling a single figure ahead of her. Her eyes, falling to rest on this messiah, filled with hope. She felt as though this person had the key, the key to freedom from the being that chased her. As she drew near the beings fetchers became apparent. She knew his face instantly, the delicate curve of his jaw, the fluency of his ears, his alburn hair falling carelessly over his shoulders and casting a beautiful shadow over his face. IT was the one thing she loved and cherished, the element that she could only ever truly know in her dreams. It was Hayite (no handbook, sorry). His eyes were still wrapped in the darkness, but she would have known him anywhere, even in this rendition of hell.  
  
" Hayite-san, brother, help me, it is coming for me!!!" She said. She tried her best to keep her voice steady, to keep it calm and collected. There were some passions that could not be curved by reason, and she found it impossible to control her heart with her mind. She didn't care though; she had found her love, to hell with everything else. As she ran towards him, his faced seemed to rescind father into the shadow. Then his voice uttered a single word.  
  
" Bastered" He said this coldly and without any hint of remorse or sadness. Indeed it seemed as though she was speaking to something that was not human in the least. At the end of this word, she fell to her knees. She found that her will to run from whatever pressured her left. She sobbed quietly, the sobs echoing indifferently off the vast catacombs and mocking her.   
  
Another thing occurred during the time she laid incapacitated by her soul. The world around her shattered and was reborn anew. The bleak and desolate nothingness gave rise to light, and the light gave rise to matter and the matter assumed the form of a wintery landscape she knew all to well. It was the place where she had followed her heart over her head. The place where she had chosen the path of right over the path of ethics. It was the place where she had become no better then that bitch whom, she was sorry to say, was her sister.   
  
The freshly fallen snow gave the new world a feeling of purity. It was a lovely sight to beheld. Each flake, in it's own turn, landing in the spot it was destined for and all seemed good. The earth rendered up a smell of purity, a smell that was filled with the gentle sent of a summer storm, albeit in the winter. The sun shown down brightly on this scene. As she looked around, trying to understand what had occurred, her eyes came to rest, yet again, on him. His face, no longer shaded in darkness, seemed to send forth purity. It's purity, unlike that of the sun's, was harsh and cold. It was a purity in which nothing else could possible exist. He began to speak.  
  
" For failing to dispose of the runaway shinobi, guilty"  
  
She tried to find her voice, but found it frozen in her throat. She was scared to disturb this purity that had befallen her.  
  
" For defiling me and the will of our ki, guilty"  
  
She found her voice and was about to speak, but just as her delicate lips parted slightly and her breath began to form sentient and audible sounds, he spoke again, more loudly and commandingly.   
  
" For following your heart instead of your mind. For being human instead of a god, guilty"  
  
She could not believe this. This was the only person she had ever truly, ever truly loved, and yet this word seemed so meaningless. How could the fire that burned so brightly and strongly in her soul, a fire so strong that it threatened to consume her, be summed up in one, 4-letter word. It seemed a mocker of her true passion, of her nights of toil and her days of misery. Of her dreams and hope, no more can be said then this word, though. SO she found her voice, stronger now, but again, he spoke more loudly and commandingly.  
  
" For killing your mother, a woman far better then you will ever be, guilty."  
  
She found her misery being replaced by a new feeling. A feeling she knew all too well. This feeling that seemed to only boil up when she was faced with the one who had chosen freedom of her life of slavery. The favorite the best and the defender of the clan. She thought of Kasumi. And the feeling was hate. Again she tried to speak, and again her cut her off.  
  
" For being born when no one wanted you, guilty."   
  
She was going to say something now, even if she had to scream it. The hate she had begun to feel traces of had became a raging torrent inside her. She was ablaze with anger. 'How dare he' she thought, how dare he. Yet again he spoke.  
  
"For human sentimentality, for weakness, for being just like her, guilty."  
  
She could no longer contain the fire within her. As if her body and heart had usurped her mind's authority, she shot up from the snow and ran at him. She found her fathers weapon, and felt it dig into his chest. Warm blood oozed onto the snow and left red marks across the newly formed earth. It was exactly what Able's blood appeared to be for Cain and, as it touched the ground, it had the same defiling effect.  
  
All at once the world changed again. The beautiful sun which shown down gave way to the darkest night, and the forest was consumed in hell fires. These were black and unstoppable. All at once the earth borne a new form. It was her pursuer it was her father. He starred at her, not with his loving eyes, but with the eyes of a demon. As she watched, his face changed into her's. It was her face she saw on that horrible beast with dark eyes and no soul. It began to laugh and it said,  
  
" Behold your fate, the fruit of your labor of hatred." She looked upon the ground and saw the mangled corpse, blood still flowing freely from it and staining the otherwise whit and pristine snow. The blood had begun to melt the snow and, as she looked at the corpse, she was filled with a pain. It was not a physical wound, that would heel, but a wound to the soul, which she knew would never leave her.'  
  
She sat up, with a start, from the chair on which she had sat. She was back in her own hut. The wind blew gently across the front of her house the sun shone into her windows. She was drenched in her own sweat and, as she felt her eyes, she noticed the presence of tears. She let loose a cry of self-hatered for this weakness and gauzed into space. It took her a few more moments to gain back acquaintance with the world. She had sat down, for only a moments rest and must have dosed off. She hadn't slept a full night since her hands became stained with the blood of a lamb. She guessed from the sun that she had about 2 hours before her and her brother would depart. She got and went to wash away any trace of her humanity, say to herself, ' he must not see me like this…'  
  
End notes: The portions in this '' are a dream just fyi 


	4. 4

Rated: R  
  
Disclaimer: don't own, not mine  
  
Authors notes: You all probably thought I had died eh?. sorry bout that, I could give u an excuse but there is an old USMC expression that I am fond of, ' excuses are like behinds, everybody's got one and they all stink' So here is ch. 4  
  
" Yes there are 2 roads u can go on, but in the long run, there's still time to change the road your on" Led Zeppelin  
  
Time, constant and relentless, seemed to move more swiftly in that single day then Ayane had ever experienced. It seemed to her that she had, only moments ago, been allowing a hot spring to wash over her body, and to ease her pain. IT had felt there as though time had stopped completely, with the wind gently rustling the trees and the living creates all in harmony with one another. The spring was about ½ km away from her current house, it was the only good thing about her bungalow. She was the only one who knew of its existence, the only one who believed it was there. It was small, big enough for only a very few, but she was the only one who ever went there she and the other. There was, perhaps, another but she did not mean anything. The other was dead to her, and she would soon kill the shadow of the body to finish the death of her sister's soul. She had died when she had left the clan, killing her was just tying up loose ends. And besides, she was dead to Ayane years before that. In any case now, when she opened her eyes after what felt like only a blink, reality had changed.  
  
She was no longer in the forest, listening to the harmony of the wind and the delicate interplay of the light and shadows. Now she stood at the base of the modern crossroads of the world, the new trading center and modern outpost. Cement jetted up towards the high heavens in every possible direction, invading the space and sanctity of the temple of the gods. Cars resonated on these concrete monstrosities and echoed endless into a cold and apathetic world. A world built by her fellow man. She would never get used to the city, she would never get used to how these people lived, and she thanked the gods for it. Her eyes watched the bleak horizon, the sun dying the buildings and ominous shade of blood red, and she seemed the only one who noticed. She would have stared, transfixed by this morbid scene, if it were not for him. He pushed her, rather roughly, and said simple, 'let's go'  
  
They began their assent up the stairs, assent into modern madness. They were at the airport. It, like all the other buildings, seemed wrong and out of place. It seemed to radiate energy that it had stolen through the years. She wondered how many people had past through her, how many people had left there mark. What happened next is hard to describe. The door threw itself open, of it's own accord, and they step into the airport. Harsh artificial lighting pounded down on them as they entered a sea of voices.  
  
IT was at this point that existence came into question. Thousands of people interacting with each other, but I such brief spans of time that these interactions held no meaning. Slight glances and nodes of the head, near collisions and collisions, reality here was in the constant grip of death and resurrection, as fluent as a river, a river of people. People moving, seemingly obvious to each other, and yet the fact that others were there was undeniable. Ayane felt so alone during times like these. Even at the village, she hated crowds just because they seemed to emphases her own alienation. She knew she was alone and yet the world seemed to feel it had to show her these glimpses of what might be. She watched as children ran by, laughing and playing, and a worried father chasing them and spouting of idle threats. Happy couples and happy people seemed inescapable. People were being reunited with those who really matter and then being swept up by the river into an ocean of joyous oblivion. These people were no more real to her then ghosts, echoes, and shadows in the night, and yet they tormented her so. She shook her head, gently, attempting to expel these thoughts.  
  
When she allowed her eyes to open again, she was standing at the ticket counter. The woman there seemed more a part of the airport, then apart from it. She seemed old and spiteful. Her eyes housed a soulless oblivion, but her's was of a different kind then fighters. She was a bit taller then Ayane, and spoke in such a monotone voice that she sounded like a computer. It was not her concern that they be content nor that they arrive, her only true function was to ensure that the river flowed smoothly enough that no one questioned where it flowed to.  
  
" My wife and I have tickets for the 9 pm plain." Hayate spoke these words. He said them so well for his role, too well. They had humanity in them, an actual semblance of feeling. She had to glance at him. For the briefest of moments, she recalled Ein. Hayate and he shared the same heart, a heart that was, deep within itself, noble and just. It was simple, Ein allowed his heart to govern his actions, whereas Hayate allowed his mind. Ein had opened up to the world, for he did not know yet that this was not a wise course of action. He wore a pair of jeans and a yellow tee shirt. They had both received some clothing from the thrift store because shinobis weren't welcome on plains. She then looked down at her own figure. She wore a pair of athletic shorts and a tank top. Apart from her headband, they were almost completely separate entities then the people they truly were. For a moment, Ayane almost believed that Hayate spoke the truth. This moment, like all of them in this limbo, past as fast as it came.  
  
The conversation proceeded as utilitarian as could be expected, Hayate and the woman exchanging the customary greetings, simple because that was what occurred. Then the smooth flow was halted abruptly as the woman said, " I see you have received permission to carry on potentially dangerous items, may I ask why?"  
  
" Well, you see Joan, I am a dealer in antiques. I have recently procured several items, like swords, that will fetch a hefty price on the market. They are genuine 19th century items, and I have a client I am meeting to sell these to. I assure you, if I were to use one, I would undoubtedly cut my own head off first, in some kind of freak ascendant." They eached laughed, seemingly out of courtesy. The woman seemed to Ayane to still be apprehensive, but they had the necessary forms, and so she allowed them to move on.  
  
The duration of the next hour reflected something like this. They would go, Hayate would speak and then they would go somewhere else. It was so mechanical, so robotic, so inhumane. They finally arrived at their gate and sat down. The plain would leave soon. Ayane hated flying, she hated anything that involved her coming into any city. More then this, she hated placing her life in the hands of a thing that might as well have run off magic and in the hands of people who knew how it worked. She decided instead of pondering this she would eat the bag of chips that she must have picked up somewhere along the line, and yet had no memory of doing so.  
  
She thought quietly of her mission and of the words of the woman prophet. The woman said that Ayane had a choice, but if she did, Ayane couldn't see it. Nothing was stronger then habit. She had lived the way she had lived for all of her life and the woman asking her to change now seemed as absurd as her ordering the constant river here to stop. And yet, deep within a part of herself that she did her best to subdue, she wondered.  
  
End notes: look, if this isn't up to par I am sorry. I am working through the rust that seems to like my head so much. I hope this was worth the stupid wait, and I am sorry about that. 


	5. 5

When illusion spin her net  
  
I'm never where I want to be  
  
And liberty she pirouette  
  
When I think that I am free  
  
Watched by empty silhouettes  
  
Who close their eyes but still can see  
  
No one taught them etiquette  
  
So I will show another me  
-Peter Gabriel  
  
The solemn vale of night was torn open by the forceful hand of Morpheous, god of sleep. Her eyes shot open and darted quickly around the room, desperately searching for something to validate her own existence. She looked frantically for her purpose and she found nothing but the void to great her. She had not made any sudden jesters, no quick movements betrayed her primal fear and yet it was there. She could fool the outside world into believing in her deception but, deep down, she could not escape the fear that remained a constant traveling companion, much like death.  
  
Yet it wasn't death she feared. Death, at worst, was a peaceful and endless sleep, lacking the trappings and toil of life. No, she feared she was not living her life. The only real choice she had ever made, the one thing she did based not on honor or discipline or loyalty to some obscure ancestor who had damned her long ago. She did it for love, not honor. It was a travesty, truly a poetic irony, the kindest person she had ever known was taken from her and used as a weapon, a tool for the acquisition of power. What choice did she have, she had freed him, hadn't she? Hadn't she ?!?! And yet she took no comfort from her choice and the amount of punishment forced upon her had only caused further doubt. She now asked such base questions as who am I and, more importantly, why am I. The void that people keep at a distance, warding it off with spells of religion and philosophy and science, now threatened to consume her. It was as if the words of Nietzsche sounded true in the expanse that was herself, ' if you stare long enough into the void, it stares back.'  
  
She sat up slowly and caste another glace around. This one was not intent on finding meaning but on finding matter. The room, as dark as a realm of space devoid of all stars, came into focus, as if immerging from a primal darkness. The hotel room was fairly expensive one, though it was not the one that everyone else was at. She would have just assumed stay at the hotel that the tournament had provided for her, she found no need for this façade that they were now acting out. Maybe she was blind to the rationality but all she knew was pretending to be Hayate's wife was hurting her. It was killing her slowly, taking everything from her. She felt as though she stood within spitting distance of Eden, the perfect and beautiful place of her dreams, and yet she could not reach it. He laid next to her, his breath being eased in and out of his body, close enough to feel, and yet he was never so distant from her. He too was slowly dying, somehow she felt this, that he was also losing their battle to the void. He claimed that their enemies knew that hotel and so this deception was needed. 'And yet was he so arrogant to presume that he could alter fate with trickery?' she thought, silently.  
  
She needed to leave this room, she felt so sure of that. To be that close to him, that tempted, was too much for any soul to bare. The room seemed to have shrunk down to near nothingness, it seemed as though she and he were the only objects in the room. She knew she had to leave, now. Slowly, with the same mechanistic and methodic movements that she had been conditioned to make, she got out of bed and began to search the room for her clothing. She wore a PJs but had no intention of returning to this room. She would sneak in before he awoke and act like she had always been there, like nothing had happened, like everything was fucking wonderful. But, for now, she would allow a sliver of truth to pierce her otherwise flawless disguise. She put on the same shorts and tank top that had seen her through her ordeal with the jet and the airports and the car ride etc etc etc. She silently put on her shoes and then moved to the door.  
  
Her hand reached for the knob. It caste her hands slim and eloquent reflection back faithfully. It seemed almost as if it was attempting to answer the question of who but she took no note of it. She noticed that he hand slightly trembled but with a bit of effort they quickly returned to the stone cold state that was her persona. She cast one last longing look back into the abyss, back where he lay, and whispered silently to the spirit of the wind ' god night my brother... and love...' At that the she left the room, as silently as a phantom, an echo.  
  
She decided she would go for a walk. The hotel was fairly big and had several conference rooms and a lounge and a pool. She would find something to occupy herself, find something to keep her from thinking. Yet the phantasms of the day seemed to overpower her mind at every step, for they kept screaming in her ear and forcing her to relive the experiences of life. The hallway seemed bright, to a blinding degree, and she couldn't help but think of the light at the end of the tunnel. This new realm seemed as bad as the old one, but in a different way. The one from whence she had immerged had been to dark to perceive anything, and she had felt lost in her own ignorance, this new place seemed to bright to recognize anything, it seemed to true for her to exist. Her feat seemed to move of their own accord and she was soon in the elevator.  
  
She stepped in and hit lobby floor. She recalled the fact that, near the pool, were vending machines and chairs. She prayed that she would at last find a place to lay her weary head. The elevator jerked to life, almost as if showing resent for being woken at this hour, and then began it's decent. Music played, softly, yet it seemed to her more to be echoes from an old dream. The numbers on the green display slowly ticked off the floors, one by one, counting down with inhuman precision the amount of floors left. Soon she would reach her destination and yet she still felt hesitant, for some reason.  
  
The elevator stopped at the lobby and the doors parted introducing her to yet a third reality. She sleepily rubbed her eyes and stepped out of the device. The only thing that greeted her at this level was the sound of a television, playing gently in the background. It was, no doubt, the night clerk's desperate attempt to ward of sleep. It filled the entire lobby, seeming amplified by the emptiness. She walked slowly towards the pool, which was outside.  
  
The place that they had gone was a tropical region, somewhere in the south pacific, but her dear brother had neglected to tell her where exactly. His threat was that if she failed, her exile would begin there and then she would be hunted. It didn't really make much difference though, all she knew was, as she pulled open the door to the outside, she was greeted with an warm and salty air. The wind blew in gently, again playfully tossing her hair and touching her body. This time it seemed to have some effect, for she allowed a slight smile to form at her lips. She enjoyed the smell of the sea and, as she stepped out of the artificial structure, found the new reality welcoming. It was the perfect mix of light and dark, which both seemed less opposing elements and more friends. They seemed to need each other, to love each other. She allowed the door to close behind her and stepped out.  
  
She moved towards then vending machines, and then she saw him. The man looked fairly old, for what was left of the hair on his head was gray and his beard was the same shade. His eyes seemed tired and worn and his whole figure gave the impression of someone who had gone through life many times Yet there was something else to him. He carried an air about him, a certain human dignity. He seemed to be a true warrior, though aged, one who had fought and found satisfaction in it. She knew from first glance that the man had probably never beat up anyone and yet his struggle was so much more. His looked as though he, like her and her brother, had battled the void, and he seemed to have immerged unsaved. He held a book and his eyes, which had only ceased for a moment to glance at the cause of the disturbance to his solitude, immediately found their way back into the words and phrases.  
  
She normally would have been bothered by his presence, and yet it felt right somehow. He seemed to have a disarming way of being, an existence that seemed to give off peace. Somehow the question was not so much why he was here as it was what would this world be like without him. The smile that had formed grew slightly bigger for now she had company. She doubted that they would speak more then two words to each other, but it was his presence that mattered, his existence served as a way of validating her own. She walked to the machine and put in some money and made her selection. Of course, nothing happened and the thing seemed to mock her.  
  
"You have to really hit the enter button, otherwise it sticks, miss?" His voice said. There was not a hint of hate or loathing or anything else she had grown accustomed to, it seemed more to her like a mild cerosoty then anything else. ' Well, a bit of chat won't hurt, it can only pass the time' she thought.  
  
She hesitated, should she give her real name or the one devised for deception by her brother, "Ayane" she said, a bit of defiance carried on it's wake. It was her name and she would do with it as she pleased.  
  
"Well then miss Ayane, may I ask why such a young one as yourself has been driven from bed. It has long been my experience that, at this hour of 3, demons seemed to love to crawl up from my past and besiege me with pain. The hour is late and people, especially young ones need their wits." He said, marking his book age and setting it down.  
  
"I am not a child..." She said, a tone of anger..  
  
"No, your not. Your eyes are far to worn to be a child's and your voice carries with it to much force. I merely meant that, at this hour, such innocent one's as yourself have nothing to fear from demons..."  
  
"And what would you know of it?!?!" She asked, becoming increasingly angered. His voice wasn't condescending, it seemed more concerned, but it was how right he seemed to be. She was a bit scared and she reacted, as she always did, with anger.  
  
"Nothing whatsoever" he said. He then picked back up his book and proceeded reading it.  
  
Silence seemed to fill the world for a few seconds. She felt the need to talk to someone, she felt the need for company, even from a stranger. " Well, who are you and what demons have drove you from you bed?" She asked, at last. She really didn't care, she simply wanted to show how assigning such questions were and how personal.  
  
Without so much as a thought or a glance, the man said "My name is Augustine. Call me Gus, everyone does. As for my demons, well they come from my life. I have done much that I have to answer for and was simply reflection on my cross and how heavy it is. It is more a fear that what I have become is not what god wished me to be..."  
  
"There is no god" she said. This surprised her, for she had never indulged in such ideas before. And yet, she had never really considered the matter, at least not that she could recall. Yet it seemed so right. Gods. They were merely stone idols that her brother forced her to swore upon, nothing more. To fear them, in this light, seemed ridiculous.  
  
He shut his book, again, and looked at her. His eyes did not house either the hate or the sexual perversion that she saw in other men's eyes. They held merely sadness, but a different kind, a kind of dignified melancholy. They, although aged, hadn't lost the fire within them and they seemed, to her, to be sharper then razors.  
  
"Then, Ayane, you are much stronger then myself." He cast a glance towards the heavens, which seemed to shine forth with a glory never before paralleled, "I was once the same as you, I said such things without knowing what they meant. The stage upon which I have acted is slowly coming to a close, my world is crumbling around me and it is that one idea that keeps life in my bones. It is from him that I find hope..."  
  
"For what?" she asked, now genuinely interested.  
  
"That somewhere and somehow I have done something worth while. I fear not my death, but the actions of my life, my dear. It is through him, or her" he added, as if an afterthought "that I find peace. I thought that I had been searching for truth, it turns out I was indulging my ego. I have written theories and treaties and I find no solace in either of them. I am having to reconsider my ideals..."  
  
"Why?" she asked  
  
"My ex wife just called me today, on my vacation of course. In any case I was a lousy husband, more married to my work then my wife and I am just now realizing that I was an even worse father. My daughter died, hit by a drunk." A strange sort of laugh interrupted him, almost a chuckle. "I always said I would become a better human being the next day, the day of new dawn, and I am just now seeing that the next day won't ever come... This book I am reading is one that I and my peers have laughed and poked fun of and yet, strangely, I take comfort from it... Irony, isn't it? We have such little time and we waste it chasing ghosts... Come now, what about you? What evil befalls your mind and soul?"  
  
"I... my husband and I..." He chuckled a bit and she stopped and said, irritated "What?!"  
  
"No, it is just that I am not used to hearing that term with such endearment. Most people view marriage more as an obligation, something that must be done. It has become a right of passage, an way into a new stage of life. And yet, when you speak that term, there is still some passion and energy. It isn't love, it is something far more intense, men far more poetic then me have termed it yearning. I was just admiring the fact that you can have what you wanted and yet still have such passion for it. Sorry, go on...." He said  
  
"That is part of the problem. He just doesn't seem to understand me, no it's worse then that, he doesn't view me as something in my own right... Does that make any sense?" she asked. She slowly became aware that she was disclosing to this strange person at 3:30 in the morning things that she had never trusted anyone with, including herself. And yet somehow it seemed right, she knew they would both remain relatively anonymous and that was a comfort for her. She felt that, due to the nature of the conversation, she could be fairly open with him. On top of that, she was tired from her insomnia and so wasn't thinking in her normal, stone cold, logic.  
  
"You are the sum of your acts, not the sum of your being?"  
  
"Yes... that is exactly right" She said, happy to be understood, "I am merely an extension of our... family, not someone... He just won't see past it, he is blind... All he can think about is his job and his form of currency," she paused, ' after all,' she thought, 'what is currency for a shinobi but honor?' "He just... I don't know..."  
  
"go on... they say this is good for the soul..." he said, simply  
  
"Well I am here with you to take care of some family matters and yet... I don't know, I thought I knew what I wanted....but.... now it's confused... it all just doesn't make sense. My dad died, recently, and I just... He was the one thing I thought for sure about, the one being that was pleasing to the gods and now he is gone..." She laughed a bit, mostly to keep from crying, "My... sister" she began again, this word lacked the usual spite that she usually gave to it. "did something really stupid and I have come here to fix it, to set everything right... Yet I feel as though it is wrong'  
  
"Did she ask for help?" Gus's voice chimed in.  
  
"No, no she didn't. I guess she made the best choices she could, given her options..." She said, in contemplation. She had never really considered Kasumi's motivation for actions. "My path was so clear and now it is just all fucked up..."  
  
"Based off the knowledge I have, why don't you just walk away?"  
  
"it is much more complex then that... It has to do with honor and responsibility... I can't just walk away..."  
  
"You are, above all else, responsible for yourself and that is about all you are responsible for. Listen kid, take it from an old conformist, life is much more then doing what your told. You always have choice, there is always an option. I wish I knew that before. I... no, it would have made no difference, for I is through experience that I learned that, not truth. God though, if only..." He paused for several seconds, seeming to maul this over in his mind... "I am going to see if my demons will let me rest and you should do the same... With the new light of dawn perhaps the world will look better. Best of luck to you, may you choose better then I did..." Unbenosed to her, he would never see that new light. He would take a gun that he bought earlier that day and repaint the walls of his bathroom, a lovely new color of dead. It was easier for him, the coward's he was, to die then bare life. He would, in the end, do as he had always done, run away. It was habit and what was stronger then it?  
  
"Good night" she said as he walked back into the building. ' choice,' she thought, sarcastically, ' yea right. Did I choose to be a bastered? Did I choose for my mother to be raped? Did I choose to love him, my brother? My life has been simply my struggle to live, there is no choice, merely reaction. Still... Fuck I don't know... god my head hurts... I just am not thinking clearly but when she is gone I know that everything will be fine... I will be ok, somehow'... and yet an annoying voice whispered, in some distant part of her mind, 'how?' She shook of this question and removed her candy from the dispenser. She would go for a walk, at least she would enjoy that...  
  
( notes: yea, took me 4 months, sorry... Don't know if anyone cares anymore, but I had the sudden urge to finish this... I took a few liberties with Ayane, but we will attribute any un Ayane acts to tiredness... Besides, we have all acted out of character, no? New email, djordjevicc@kenyon.edu, in case anyone cares...) 


	6. 6

( Hi, thanks for the comments, they are really helpful and mean a lot... a Ch. with Hayate, hmmm... I had not thought about it... I might add a ch or 2 or I am do rewrite from his perspective and post it under like chase 2.0 or something like that... Thanks and keep the comments coming (... also, my name spelling may be off a bit, sorry... )  
  
"Why am I trying to see when there ain't nothing in sight Why am I trying to give if no one gives me a try Why am I dieing to live if I'm just living to die"  
-Tupac  
  
They arrived at the resort where everyone else was existing, becoming more fully themselves. She had not slept well last night and she was now beginning to show signs of her fatigue. Her eyes had deep bags and her eyes seemed weary, though it was more then tired. It seemed as though her very essence was fighting to exist and that it was a weariness caused by this, a weariness of the soul, which caused the physical signs. Her hair was neatly combed down and she had dressed in her usual black ninja suit. She walked with a certain amount of sloth and, when she spoke, she spoke slowly and deliberately, with not the zeal and zest that most words are given by their masters.  
  
The resort, as she had thought, was much nicer then the place that her dear brother had decided they would stay. The cab came up a long and curving driveway, through a beautiful path that was perfectly landscaped. The sun was just over the horizon and it cast rather ominous but strangely beautiful shadows on the lawn of the hotel. The path had statues at semi- regular intervals, mostly for the novelty of it. They, she was told at least by the loud and gregarious cab driver, were Greek gods, relics of a all but discarded religion. They were kept for novelty and ascetic value now, the oaths and power they once held being brought to nothing. ' And so it shall be with my people' she thought quietly, looking forward to the day when her brother would not control the clan with fear and threats of damnation. Yet something bothered her, she kept thinking there was something more then that. It was as if the temples and statues were meant as markers on a road to something far grander and that most people simply took them to be the actual thing.  
  
The cab pulled up and she stepped out of the car. She breathed deeply and tasted the sea air. It had an unrecognizable odor, not pleasant, but familiar. The day had a certain freshness and newness to it, as if the world had begun again. The sun bounced off the reflecting pool that sat near the hotel entrance, and seemed to make it glow. Indeed, it seemed that genesis had occurred again. She was to old to be fooled by such cheap trickery as the promise of a new day or a better tomorrow. She had learned that a tree would always be, in essence, a tree, regardless of it's apparent newness. And she would always be a bastered, regardless of her actions. Sure she could chop the tree down and make something from it, yet even it's ashes were still tree ashes, she could not change it. It, even in the freshness of birth, seemed as though her world had been determined by forces beyond her control and she was fated to merely walk the path chosen.  
  
Then she saw something. It, from where she stood, was within her reaching distance, so she bent down and plucked it from the earth. It was a flower. She was not sure why she picked it, there was no reason behind it, and yet it felt right. It was her validating herself through actions. She looked at it and couldn't help but smile. She saw something within that bud that could only be described as poetry. There was a simplistic beauty to it, a loveliness all it's own. It seemed that although it existed in a sea of flowers, it had chosen to be beautiful. It was not a part of a larger world, but a world all to itself. Not a part, but a whole. She shook her head, gently, realizing she felt better, but not sure why.  
  
They pulled the heavy door open and stepped into the interior of the building. It contrasted with the outside to a nearly sickening degree. It seemed so false, so artificial. It was the drawing of a child hung next to the work of a master. The people within were doing this and that, seemingly oblivious to her and Hayatie's existence. The hall was filled with laughter and happiness that made her want to be sick. Every few seconds she heard the ear piercing shriek of girls her age saying things like "Oh my god, Tina, I saw that movie and it was like, the coolest thing ever... Seriously...".  
  
And there she was. Wearing her usual blue uniform and loitering about with the others. She stood in the mist of a crowd of people, other tournament fighters, speaking and laughing right along with them. ' How dare she,' Ayane thought, ' Every day of my life is a struggle and yet, even in her punishment, she finds joy... I fucking hate you so much. Why, it just isn't fare at all. Just for one day like that, I would do anything. Enjoy it you bitch, I will kill you and take your place.' This last thought struck her as odd. She had never before thought in terms and yet, it seemed so right. Blood for blood, she would ascend to her sisters place, take it by force and be happy. Her sister had stopped laughing when she had caught sight of Ayane and now all that was past between the two of them were looks, though they were very different in nature.  
  
Her glare was broken when her brother taped her and said "Everything in it's place. Let us speak to Ryu. He will have much to say"  
  
She turned her glare on him and, still pulsing with hate and not thinking entirely clearly, she said "Why does he get to stay here?"  
  
"Because this is his place. It is time for you to learn yours. If you question me again, in that tone, you will share the fate of the fallen one." He said, coldly, and returning her glare.  
  
They made there way over to Ryu. He leaned against a wall, eyes closed and seemingly deep in thought. This exact scene had been repeated at the last tournament and she already knew, nearly verbatim, what they would say to one another. Her brother was always a creature of habit, but after coming back from the accident, he had been worse. It was as if he was trying to prove he was the real Hayate by becoming so entrenched in tradition that nothing could shake him. He was hard and cold, like a mounting. They walked over  
  
Ryu was different then they were, somehow. He seemed much more like water then rock, able to shift and flow. She held a certain respect for Ryu for that, his ability to change so drastically. He laughed when it was time to laugh and cried when it was time to cry, and he did both actions without shame. It was as if he acted from a center that neither she nor Hayate had found. He called it balance but regardless of what it was, it was the reason he had always won ageist her and her brother and her sister. Yet his relaxed demeanor did not reflect his strength, it only came out in combat. He now seemed, quite simply, content to exist. His eyes opened as they approached, reviling crystal clear green eyes that seemed to pierce right down to the soul. He spoke softly and methodically, though with a certain amount of detachment, as if the words were not from him at all.  
  
"Hail brother..." He said  
  
"Hail" Came Hayate's reply "What is the status of the target..."  
  
"Your sister....." he began  
  
"No longer..." Hayate stated in return, "I have none..."  
  
"If blood lines be so subjective, then allow Ayane" he motioned to her " to become a your heiress. And if they do matter, then do not deny the truth..."  
  
Ayane could never quite figure out his motivation. She was never sure if her brought her up merely to win, as a tool to defeat her brother or if he was doing something more. She, for whatever reason, always believed that he was acting, as much as he could, for her and her sister's good. He seemed to be doing it not out of malice, but some other force. She allowed him to continue, trusting him, above all others, with her name, the only thing she had that belonged to her.  
  
"Regardless of that, what is her status?"  
  
"She seems to have come again, like a moth to a fire..."  
  
"This time it will consume her..." Hayate said  
  
"Those who play with fire must be cautious not to burn themselves..." Ryu said, simply.  
  
"Mind your tongue or I will..."  
  
"An honest and just leader fears not the truth. I merely speak what is, come brother, what could possibly scare you about that." Said Ryu.  
  
"Yes... I must take care of things... Watch her and make sure she does nothing foolish..." He said, motioning to Ayane as he left.  
  
She hated him for that. He had done it every since they were small, ' mind Ayane' ' Watch Ayane' as if she was stupid enough to do something utterly foolish. Now it was worse though, he no longer spoke with loving affection, but with almost hate. It was as if she was his burden to carry and that she was nothing more then a bad dog who would chew up the masters furniture and pee on the rug at it's first chance.  
  
She turned to walk away, not wanting to hear this stupidity anymore. Her brother had left a few seconds ago and she began to leave when...  
  
"Ayane..." She turned and looked at Ryu. "For what it's worth, I am sorry... Your father was a good man and... Sometimes the only choice we're given is weather to live or die... I am really sorry for your loss..." He said, his eyes looking at her.  
  
She stopped and thought for a few seconds, mostly due to shock. Her and Ryu hadn't spoken since the last tournament, what with her in semi exile and he in a different albeit extinct clan. He was the first person who had called the man she regarded as her father, her father and he was the first one to offer condolences to her. "Thank you..." She managed to force out, though it seemed so inferior to what he had given her. He had just validated her existence. He had shown her that there was someone who actually cared for who she was not what she was. She wanted to laugh and cry and hit him and hug him all at the same time. Instead, she began to walk away again and he said.  
  
"Don't go to far, little Ayane, we don't want you to go cause mischief by getting lost" he said this in a mock of her brother voice and tone and she couldn't help but chuckle to herself. She walked oven and hit him on the shoulder and said  
  
"Do it again and your dead..." She then walked away, feeling better somehow.  
  
She decided she would go for a walk since they hadn't began to check people into the tournament. As she walked, she couldn't help but overhear something from a side room that made her stop and walk in. She heard, "In other news tonight Augustine Grame, Gus to his friends, was found shot last night in his hotel room. The suspected cause is suicide, probably due to the loss of his daughter, Hanna. He was regarded as one of the most prolific and profound authors of the 20th century, with such notable quotes as "If there is a god, show me why there is a god.' He was a professor in philosophy and taught at Yale. A strange thing was discovered, however, at the scene. For more w go to the police briefing...." Pause, then "Good day. This is merely going to be a statement, not a question and answer period. Found next to Dr. Grame was a book that seemed to be the last he would ever read. It was the epic poem, paradise lost. Inside it had a suicide note but also had, the statement "To Ayane, may this title give you guidance it your family affairs." We are not sure who Ayane is but if she is listening, we would like to interview you. You are not suspected of anything, we would simply like some closure. Again, if there is an Ayane out there, you are wanted for questioning...."  
  
"So you have killed another great member of society?" she recognized the voice immediately as belonging to Helena. "My mother not enough, eh? A philosopher and an opera singer. Who is next? A poet maybe..." She said these words dripping with spite and hate.  
  
"Believe whatever you want, but I did not do either of the crimes you accuse me of. Why would I leave my name at the scene of the murder?" She asked, stoically  
  
"Oh, no. You are far to cleaver for that. You probably broke his heart. He was already close to the edge and you gave him that little extra push, you killed his soul, the body followed."  
  
"Fuck you" She said, in an equally hateful voice. Then she turned her back and walked out of the room.  
  
Still something nagged at her. It was as if even though Helena was wrong about intention, Ayane wondered if she was right about cause. Everyone Ayane seemed to interact with became hurt or worse, died. Somewhere deep inside she had already blamed herself for Gus's death and that of her father. She just felt so weighed down by life that she feared she could never free herself.  
  
She left the hotel, more in defiance of her brother then anything else, and decided to go to the library. Gus had died and his last request was that she look at that book. She decided to go and find it and see why it mattered... 


	7. 7

And if you feel in my heart that i long for revenge  
  
Please blame it on the sun of the mournin  
  
Thanks Again Jay Z  
  
The place reeked of old times and old days. The structure itself seemed a cry back to a long forgotten time. It was here that the gateway to another world stood. Neatly staked on it's decrepit and diminishing walls, with high gothic ceilings and old pillars, sat portals to other worlds. Some of them past and some future, but each of them expression a truth that could not be spoken out loud, only hinted at. Yes, if there was one place to find what it meant to be human, it was in this structure. Yet it seemed forsaken, left with no one to pay heed to its wisdom, aside from a few outcastes. Even the grass, which was yellow, seemed past it's time.  
  
She stood for a few seconds, just staring at the structure. The gargoyles loomed menacingly overhead and old curses from old priest echoed anew in her mind. She was both attracted to and repulsed by the structure. It was as it had entranced her in a song of antiquity that she could not remember, but was condemned never to forget. She was interrupted by the cabbies rough and out of place voice, saying "10 euros"  
  
Without thought she reached into her pocket and handed him the money, saying "keep the change." He made to drive away and then hesitated. It was as if he had a great weight on his mind. Finally he spoke "Lady, this is 100 euros..."  
  
She looked at him for the first time. He was an old man, with deeply tan skin and aged hands. He gave off a smell that was rather like cabbage, though the odor was not strong enough to be placed. He wore large glasses and dressed very economically. He was an old man who seemed to, at least in her mind, sound broken. They had spoken ten words to each other, tops, and yet she felt that he had very little if anything within him. His eyes now confirmed this, as empty and desolate as a black hole. Yet there was something that had fought its way to the top and now made its presence known. A certain dignity hung within his dark eyes. ' It's Hayate's money, stained with blood... I don't want or need it, what would I do with it? Perhaps he can put it to good use...He... I don't need it and besides, losing that much money might be enough to get him to look at me again, instead of look through me...' "Keep it" she repeated, in the same listless manor  
  
"Jesus... Um... I... Thank you..." He said, seemingly on the verge of tears  
  
' Why' she thought, ' it is just money, what good does it do you?' She smiled though, he didn't know enough to not treat her like a person. It was refreshing to be spoken to in such human terms  
  
He spoke again "There isn't a phone in there... suppos'in I come back in a hour or so? Would that work for you?" he said  
  
"Whatever" was her reply  
  
He then drove away. The cab kicked up dust as it drove back towards the road. The driveway was dirt and the slightest disturbance seemed to cause a torrent of dust. The sun fell through the dust and became momentarily visible and, for an instant, it appeared as though the cab left a trail of light in it's wake. Her eyes followed it and it's strange driver to the road. She then walked to the door and opened it.  
  
Instantly she was taken in by a gush of cool air. It seemed unusually cold, but it was none the less refreshing. The inside of the building had a certain cheer, in spite of the gloom. It had the musty smell of old books and older men. The lighting streamed in through the side window, illuminating several tables. A few sat in the sun and browsed through periodicals or books. Thus area was the bad portion of the town. From what she could gather, the rich people owned and lived in the hotels and employed these folks. They were by no means unsavorily, just more down to earth and real.  
  
"May I help you, dear?" came a voice from behind. She turned and saw what she assumed to be the owner of this establishment. She had never been in one of these libraries before, but somehow this woman seemed to fit the bill. She had glasses that dangled around her neck on a string and a kindly but distant look in her eye. She seemed to be happy, somehow or other.  
  
"Yes, I need a book... Paradise lost..."  
  
"Ahh, the fall of 2 sons of god..." the woman said, simply. Then "David... could you be a dear and come here please..."  
  
Then the building seemed to open itself up and bring forth this David fellow. He came from the innermost part of the building, coming with a spacey and distant look in his eyes. He was about Ayane's age, though he was much less athletic. He approached the two of them, not really noticing them much. He had hair that was long enough to provide a certain amount of scruffiness, but, on the whole, he seemed to radiate a general apathy. It seemed as though the world didn't matter one way or another. He walked with a certain dullness and his legs fell onto the ground, echoing into nothing. That is until he saw Ayane.  
  
He was, apparently, used to dealing with older people because, the second his eyes fell on her, his head shot down and a redness became apparent in his checks. He acted as though it was so kind of a horrific deed to look upon Ayane and he did everything in his power to look away. She couldn't help but allow a slight smile. She had become accustomed to men in the village staring at her and knew the perversions that ran rampant within their minds. But he seemed different then them, less bold and less assertive.  
  
"You know where Paradise lost is, yes?" A quick nod, eyes still on the ground... "By Milton, yes?" another nod... "This young lady would like it, take her to it at once..." The woman said, then she turned back behind the counter.  
  
"T- This way..." He said, eyes still on the ground.  
  
There was something very amusing in all this that Ayane couldn't help but enjoy. He was so honest. She had been taught never to show true emotion and never to allow oneself to do what he was now doing. He had an honesty that she didn't encounter much any more. She somehow knew that with him, what you saw was what you got. He had a complete lack of pretense and she found that poetically refreshing, somehow. She followed quietly, relishing the moment.  
  
After a few moments, they reached a shelf and the boy's hands began to run along the shelves, searching. He seemed to loose himself in this activity, for he began to speak to her in a much more secure voice. It was as if they had entered his world. "Paradise lost, eh? That is a hard one, I got to say... Still though, that shows a good deal of taste on your part... People our age are often to wrapped up in trifles..." he said this with disgust... "to notice finer things... Then again, I may be to caught up in this to notice finer things to so..."  
  
"What is it about?" She asked, still a bit of amusement playing in her voice.  
  
"Well, it is about the fall of a noble rebel from paradise, or the excommunication of a rouge evil villain, depending who you ask..."  
  
"How can one be both?" She asked  
  
"It is all a matter of interpreting it... Great works are great because they work on so many levels. There is a contradiction in humanity itself and the books crystallize it. It is another world entirely, a world of spirits and ideals. Of things to great for I to behold. Of angels..." At that his glance turned upward to look at her. He no longer had the same amount of fear. He was rolling now and, although he looked at her, it was as if he had been possessed. "and demons..." he looked back to the shelves...  
  
After a few more seconds of silence, "Ahh, ask and ye shall find..." he had been hunched over and now rose to his fully erect position, "seek and ye shall find."  
  
"Thanks" she said. He then came back into himself and, at once, his eyes shot back to the ground. He then descended back into the void of the library, eyes still downcast. She thought to herself that he would be the one whom she would seek out if she became stuck within the pages of the aged volume that she now held.  
  
She looked down on it. It was a worn and old copy. It's pages were musty and yellowed. It had, embroidered on the front in worn pee yellow that was, no doubt, once imitation gold "Paradise lost." It seemed somehow fitting...  
  
She opened the book, at random, trying to get a feel for it. It said " For only in destroying I find ease  
  
To my relentless thoughts; and, him destroyed,  
  
Or won to what may work his utter loss,  
  
For whom all this was made, all this will soon  
  
Follow, as to him linked in weal or woe;  
  
In woe then; that destruction wide may range:*"  
  
And she knew that within this aged book, a kindred spirit screamed out to her in the night.  
  
( notes; 1 a bit to shorter, but well... the quote is from Paradise lost, book 9... And thanks for everyone who reviews this... I really appreciate the encouragement... Not much action, sorry about that and sorry if it was a bit cutey to... ) 


	8. 8

Note; First off thanks everyone for the reviews, I really love to get them... Secondly, this is my first fight scene ( I think), I did it in a weird way, but if you got this far, you've come to expect that, no? :)... let me know what you think.,.  
  
"Awake, arise, or be forever fallen"  
-John Milton, book I, paradise lost  
  
It was dark. A living darkness that rose out of nothing and consumed her being. Far from being painful, it was pleasant, a descent into a world without hurt or happiness. It was not the blackness that came upon her while she tried to sleep, the vacuum that claimed she was nothing. This somehow had a different nature, and yet it was all too familiar. The amount of solace she found in it scared her and yet made her so sublime. Then the wonderful void came crashing down and was replaced with a pain.  
  
The pain began at what she would assume was her forehead and then radiated down. It was as if every portion of her body screamed out at once. It felt as though her very being threatened insurrection against her mind. The world, meanwhile, slowly emerged back into existence. She felt the cool ground, stubborn and inflexible, cradle her body. She felt the texture of the surface underneath her. And then she felt a soft breeze blow gently across her body and heard poetry in the wind. It was sublime.  
  
Her eyes opened, as if for the first time, and revealed a crystal blue sky. It was the most clear blue she had ever seen. Her eyes slowly tore away from it's beauty, revealing other things that existed. She noticed the shadows move as the wind blew the trees and cause waves on the ground. In constant and flux and changing perpetually, they seemed to dance with one another under this pure sky. The smell of the fresh cut grass and the seaward breeze contained within them an ecstasy that she was incapable of understanding, she could simply experience it. The truth of her own existence pulsed through her veins and restored to her the innocence of her youth. Then, at last, her eyes fell on him.  
  
He too seemed to dance, his silvery hair swaying gently in the breeze. The bottle he clung to perpetually found it's way to his lips as he attempted to stand where he was. His movements were sporadic and patternless because of his drunkenness. And yet there was something more profound then mere alcohol that made him move in harmony with the wind and trees, it was a choice. His yellow eyes and hers locked and, for an instant, they knew eachother as lovers knew one another. In that moment each expressed all hope and fear, all love and hate, the entirety of themselves to the other. His eyes then turned away.  
  
Slowly she began to hear something other then the voice of god on the wind, she began to hear "Is she down and out? This could be it for our contender, 7..........8" The space between seven and eight stretched on into infinity somehow spreading itself to encompass her whole life and then some. Within that second she felt everything, heard everything and was at one with everything. She then felt her body swiftly and gracefully restore itself to its feat with a flip. She heard the air rush by her ears and felt her legs touch the ground.... "9.... Wait, she's up... after all that she is...." The sound fell off again into nothingness.  
  
Everything else followed the sound, fading into black until all that was left was him and her. They again locked eyes and again the strange love- like feeling was felt. She felt her muscles tense up. She knew they were her's and yet she felt distant from them, like there was some separation between her and her body. She noticed the feeling of her cloths rubbing against her skin, took note of the way that the sounds of voices became one slow murmur that was in unison. She took note, above all else, of how the shadows and light seemed to create eachother. Then bam.  
  
What happened next can't be described as Ayane doing something, for that is wrong. The line between Ayane and action had become blurred to the point where the action was her, or rather, it was a expression of her essence. It was as if everything she had, everything she was, could be called forth and harnessed into this one act. Self and world, right and wrong, good and evil all gave way to this poetically pure act. There was no longer an if or then a time or place a person or verb, there was simple the doing and it was this doing that consumed all the world.  
  
In truth this was why she loved to fight. She would loose herself completely in her dance with God and all her small problems gave way to this. It was as if, when she fought, she was a child again, with neither tormented soul or questioning mind. She was at peace and she loved ever moment of it. Here, in this action and at this moment, there were no pretenses or politics, no faith or despair, there simply was her. She stood in the garden, naked, and yet felt no shame, as the books would say.  
  
Her body twirled around in such a way as to defy physics. Not the law of gravity, but the concept of time. She spun onto infinity, in a primal bliss and prayed with her whole heart that she would never stop. Then she felt her leg raise slowly and before it made contact, she looked into his eyes. He knew it was unavoidable now, much as a storm on the horizon can't be stopped, and yet within his eyes was the same look of peace and happiness.  
  
Then she felt her foot hit his face and all at once the primal ecstasy and true serenity left her. Rushing in to fill this void was pain. Her whole body returned to aching and, at the same time, the world forced its way back in. She watched as his body flew towards a wall and a part of her envied him, for he was still in that fabled garden. She, on the other hand, had retuned and found nothing to greet her but her pain. And yet she would suffer all this and more to regain the few seconds of true peace she had captured. It was like a lighting bolt, filling the world for one brief instant with light and the causing a catastrophic clash of thunder ( a friend of mine always says this...).  
  
"Brad is down... I don't think he'll be getting up from that blow, let's watch again..." Somewhere a screen flickered on with her image still spinning in infinity. The people screamed mindlessly, some cheered and some booed and yet none could deny the fact that she had won. She, through heaven and hell, had proven to a cold and uncaring universe that she still existed. She had made her presence felt and she took cold satisfaction in watching this belief being confirmed in the faces of the audience.  
  
After the ten count the medics rushed onto the arena. The man with whom she had shared such a sacred dance, was carried out on a stretched. A doctor came over to her, had her look at light and asked inane questions like " who are you." He seemed to be under the impression that the question could be answered and that he had a right to know. If there was one fate she feared worse then failure, it was the idea that, the most holy of questions, could be summed up in one word. Somewhere a demon whispered, gently, 'bastered'. She shook her head slightly "Ayane" was her answer.  
  
He did some other things, touching her here and there and listing to her breath. He hummed while he worked, a tune she didn't know but would learn was ode to joy. Their eyes met only for an instinct, but whatever truth was fearlessly conveyed by herself and her dance partner, was kept from this man. He could not understand and so the glance held nothing from either person. He looked at the ground and said, "Your injuries are not too serous, maybe a mild concussion and a few bruises is all. Go to the first aid tent and get your wounds cleaned, then you should be fine." She felt herself nod though was unsure why.  
  
She then began to move away from this hallowed ground and towards the hall that permitted her entrance. Then she noticed her brother. He was leaning against the wall of the entrance, eyes glued on her. She walked by him briskly, not wanting to stop. She was in enough pain. Then she heard him say "Three down... It looks like all four of us will make it to the finals and it looks as though you will have the first shot at the runaway." At the mention of her name Ayane turned to regard her brother for the first time. Everything about him seemed as it should be and yet there was a feeling she sensed from him. There was something more, something he was struggling to say and yet something he needed to say. She waited.  
  
Finally several seconds past and she turned began to resume her course to the tent. Hayate said, at last, and seldom louder then a whisper, "You did well today."  
  
She was thankful that her back was to him. She felt a familiar redness rush to her cheeks and she both embraced and cursed herself for it. A part of her said, ' you are more then his dog, how dare he say that... As if I am nothing but a puppy to be praised when doing its masters will.' And yet another part sang a song with lyrics to beautiful to be put into words. It was this divine song that won out of her base nature and she allowed herself to rejoice in her brothers words. She nodded and then continued on her walk.  
  
She had almost reached the end of the hallway and the field in which the tent was when a reporter came up to her. The woman introduced herself and before anything else could be done, the mic was under Anaye's noise.  
  
"Any words for your fans?" the woman asked  
  
"Awake, arise, or be forever fallen" was Ayane's reply, after several seconds. She began to walk away yet again and heard over her shoulder  
  
"There you have, three victories and three quotes from paradise lost. The woman who many are calling the fallen fighter is victorious again"  
  
Ayane allowed a smile to fall onto her face. Fallen fighter, she liked the ring it had. She would, of course, always consider herself a Tengu, but the name still carried some sway. The tournament had began and she had dispensed with three fighter's in three days, each yielding to her superior skill. And yet the more she trained and the harder she fought, the more she felt a growing gap between her skill and Kasumi's. Even as youths, she had never defeated Kasumi, had never won. It was only be sheer luck that she had won against her last tournament and even then she was far to weak to take the fallen beauties life. She had killed her father after that and yet the prospect of killing both sister and father didn't appel to her then. One life was enough for that day. But now she would have to finish what she had began and her track record of one win against one thousand losses bore heavy on her mind.  
  
She reached the tent and was made to lay down on a cot. They bandaged her wounds, mumbling under their breaths about how barbaric the sport was and how it had no place in the modern world. After what seemed like an eternity, another doctor gave her a clean bill of health and then sent her on her way. Little did he know, she really had no where to go. Hayate had a fight that day and so she could either go sit in the hotel, which was separate from everyone elses, or go walk around people who either hated or felt indifferent to her.  
  
And then Ayane saw her, the bane and curse of Ayane's existence. She walked slowly, clearly from a fight of her own. She was in worse shape then Ayane had been when she arrived at the tent and as Ayane regarded her, a voice said ' strike now.' She shook the thought off, for if she couldn't beat Kasumi at her best, there was even less of a point in their fighting. Their eyes locked and Kasumi nodded at her, slightly, before looking away. Ayane, in spite of herself, returned the nod and then turned around. She had the sudden urge to read more of her book and so she was going to go pick it up, find a quite spot, and continue to read the tome that was quickly becoming her bible.  
  
End notes; seemed short but oh well... 


	9. 9, one possible ending

Notes; First, as always, thanks for the reviews... I can not put into words what they mean... A few things here, first the intro is slow, but I liked it so... Second, Paradise lost is one of the greatest books ever, if you have some time on your hands read it ( it is really hard to get threw though)... Finally, let me know if I was too long winded or preachy... This came out to be 11 pages which makes me happy and worried... Other than that, enjoy...  
  
" Life is not a dream. Beware! Beware! Beware!"  
- Frederico Lorca  
  
"I still don't understand this passage... Lucifer claims that he could, with a simple apology, return to heaven. Why would he stay in hell... He knows now it can never be as good as heaven and that his mind can't overcome reality with perception, so why fight?"  
  
She looked again from the work to her guide. She still could not understand the contrast within this person. Whenever she even came near him his checks grew red and he looked at the ground but when he began to discuss this type of thing, he changed. He became more assertive and strong and yet somehow more distant. It was as if he was carried away on the echo of his own voice to mystical realms and worlds to pure for this one. He got a look in his eye that seemed as though he was looking at a beauty that he could see alone. There was another quality he had when he took on these fits of genus, a certain loneliness. It was as if because of his ability to see so far, he lost what was close at hand. Even his voice took on a powerful but empty tone. It was as if he became so lost within the text, that he lost himself. There was something truly kindred in David's eyes to her own. They were both outcastes and the longing that only a reject can know had transmuted itself within each of their empty glances.  
  
"That's the tragic part of the story. Aristotle said that a truly tragic hero is one who is a good person and simply has one fatal flaw. Macbeth had his thrist for power, Oedipus his stubbornness and Lucifer his pride. He gave up everything and led an army into hell for the sake of his pride."  
  
"But why?" She asked, though she somehow knew the answer.  
  
"Because he became to petty to see past his own reflection in the mirror. Look at how Milton's story goes, Lucifer, instead of being grateful to exist, becomes filled with spite at the prospect of not being the best. That, in the end, is the biggest mistake we can ever make, to get caught up in this..." He waved his hand around, as if indicating the world.  
  
"What's this?"  
  
"Oh, it can be anything. Love, pride, hate, beauty, sex drugs and rock and roll. That is the point Milton is trying to get across, we all need a focus of life, something to make existence meaningful. We need to feel that there is some reason we are here, some point to our being. I mean fuck, if all we are meant to do is breed and die, then why are we cursed to think? What a sick joke if, in the end, our ability to think is nothing more then a delusion. Even if it is a lie, we all have to feel as though there is more to being human then being a monkey with a bigger brain. And so we search for meaning, for purpose. Some look high and some low. Lucifer found his purpose in being the most beautiful of all the heavenly hosts, that's how he defined himself. That became all he was, the point he lived on. When that came under threat, he did the only sane thing he could, he fought to save his idea of meaning..." The rythematic voice pounded in her ears, much like thunder. It was regular, distant and alone. And yet within it's rhythm there seemed the innate ability to weave a picture. It was as if ideas, questions, emotions, were all given a physical form. He painted a tapestry not from earthly dirt, but from heavenly ether. It was as if he weaved a picture to beautiful to be contained with the pigments and colors of this world.  
  
"But where can you get this meaning?" She looked into his eyes again. He had grown progressively more distant until now he was no longer within the stuffy library. He was among the angels and the demons, watching the war and the fall. She envied him and his ability to escape the harsh reality of his world. A part of her recognized that she herself had the same look when she fought. She had come back because she wanted to understand why someone wouldn't choose heaven over hell. Somehow his words seemed to strike her to close to home and as she listened, she felt a sadness. Such a noble soul was destroyed and over something so stupid as birth order. Lucifer was created second and so would always be second and yet something about the assuredness of that formula bothered her. She felt, for the first time since her father's death, like shedding a tear. Not for a fictional character, but for herself and for all the members of her race. It hurt so much to be human and to live, and she wanted to weep for that.  
  
"That is the question, no? Where can we find meaning, how can we be happy. I can't tell you because only you can know. That is not to say that you do know, I sure as hell don't know what I want, but that you have the potential to know. It is this hope, this chance to meet myself one day on some dark alleyway, that keeps me going. There is one thing that almost everyone seems to agree on, you need something bigger. You need to believe that life is about more then just the transient things like how much you make or what you have. Kierkegaard, a great philosopher, once wrote that ' faith', in his case, 'in god can fill your life with grace.' It isn't so much what we believe, simply that we believe. Lucifer believed in something changeable, something temporary, and he used it to define his existence. In the end, that is what caused his fall from grace, it was his own smallness..."  
  
She glanced down at the rays of light that fell through the window. They poured through and seemed to take on a quality not unlike liquid spilling onto the ground and spreading out to cover as much of it as possible. Within the lights beams were illuminated thousands of grains of dust and it appeared almost like snow to her eyes. They danced within it's translucent beam and seemed to recite, over and over, a hymen to existence. The dust moved with a refined eloquence that it would take years for a human to master.  
  
The beams had steadily progressed across the wooden floor and had now nearly reached the table that they both sat at. She would guess she had been there for nearly three hours, exploring the depths of her soul. She would have to leave soon, for her brother would want to return to their own hotel and he would surely leave her if she was not back at his convenience. Yet there was some quality contained within that library that was hard for her to leave. She felt more at peace there, listening to the haunting rhythms of David's voice, then anywhere else, said the battle field of course. She slowly became aware that this place was a great port into an entirely different realm. It was a port into a world of ideas and emotions. Yet she knew she must rip herself away from the transcendent beauty. So she cast one more gauze at her guide and prepared to leave.  
  
His eyes were quickly returning to the normal meekness that they held and she knew soon he would be cognizant enough to blush and look at the ground again. There was something truly poetic about that simple gesture, something beautiful. She knew this would be the last time they would meet, for she was returning the book today. The tournament was ending and her chance at salvation fast approaching. She would miss this place though, the old but friendly smell, the creaky wood, and yes, she would miss her guide, David. She would fight the perfect one soon, the one who had everything she had always wanted. She was both excited and replied by the notion though neither feeling made much sense to her. But the chosen one would fall and she would rise up in that one's place. In any case, this was the last time she would set foot within this temple of knowledge.  
  
She slowly pushed her chair back and it made a screeching noise that echoed endlessly within the eternal halls. The sound revived her guide fully from his trance like slumber and he immediately looked at her, blushed, and looked away. She slowly raised her body, which objected to the idea because of it's soreness, to a stand. She then began to walk slowly away. Each step fell on the bare wood floors and echoed into the distant halls. Yet these steps reaffirmed her faith in her existence, it was through them she knew she was walking. Then she turned round to look at David one last time. When she stood opposite of her guide, who still looked away, she gently placed her hand on his shoulder, knowing that this jester would say more then her mere words ever could. Then she proceeded on. She had reached the door, when she heard her guides familiar voice resonating through the halls. This voice, however, had a quality that was somehow different then the 2 she was used to hearing. It was somehow like it was from him but not of him, like he had become a mouthpiece for something far more sublime, something far more pure. The world itself seemed to tremble under this new tone.  
  
"Remember, Lucifer chose hell. He could have gone back at any time. All you have to do is stop, that is it. Hatred is a fire that will destroy everything that is in it's path, especially the one who bares it. Past wrongs are no excuse to do future ones. You have a choice, that is all you have, don't be afraid to use it." He then turned and walked away from her.  
  
Ayane wasn't sure what he meant as she got into the taxi and began her trip to the hotel. Yet there was something disturbing within his hallow words. She felt, for the first time, aware of the weight of her past, of her habits and doubts. Yet something deep inside was grateful, for this meant that she could change it, for she saw her chains and could free herself from them, much as Scrooge had done a century earlier. The cab began to move, the engine roaring to life and the voice of the driver saying "Where you headed?"  
  
' I wish I knew' she thought, "To the D resort hotel."  
  
The cab driver then turned back in his seat and began to go. The cab sputtered several times and the cabby uttered various profane chants to conger it back to life. Then he headed out of the gravel driveway and for the main road. The woosh of the wind indicating that they had set out from the library towards the hotel. The sea air smelled fresh, in spite of the cabs odorers and Ayane glanced out the window.  
  
The sun beams fell from the sky as holy manna, saturating the world with life blood. They had turned a deep red and it seemed to her that the sun itself bled, as if from some invisible wound. The onset of darkness was an inevitability yet by it's defeat was promised a new life, within it's wake of destruction was promised rebirth. The clouds moved quickly away from the glorious sunset, as if fleeing in fear. Ayane kept her eyes turned to the heaven and watched as the receding light became less and less, till little was left. The redness of the rays turned everything else a deep shade of blood red and it was as though it knew that soon blood would be spilled. The entire world had been transmuted into a realm of death and hell. And yet there was still freedom and, in the end, there was hope. The ocean faithfully reflected the beautiful calm before the storm and the waves seemed to only add to the changing reality. The wind, which moved from the oriental to the occidental, seemed to whisper to her things no other person had heard. She was going to Gethsemane to met her fate.  
  
Her car arrived to the hotel and pulled into the drive. She set her foot on the earth and cast a glance around. The scene was as serene as when she had first arrived and yet something seemed out of place. Something was wrong and although she couldn't identify it, she could sense it. Inside the stained glass windows light flickered, apparently from one of the T.V.'s warm and radiant artificial glow. She walked up the short walkway between the drive and the door. It had regular and ornate patterns and it seemed a bit of shame to treed on them. The sunlight had tinted them and the stained glass with a menacing air. She felt as though she gauzed upon a fallen temple, which due to it's own deterioration, had fallen into misuse. It seemed a menacing mockery of it's former beauty, a place where great gods die and are reborn as demons.  
  
Then she felt someone behind her. She turned around and there was Kasumi. Their eyes met and Ayane felt hatred welling up in her heart. She looked upon her sister's perfect figure, silluted in the sunlight. Her curved body forever wrapped in the gentle embrace of the sun. Her hair blew freely in the wind and she gave off the most pleasant smell of strawberries. She looked, to Ayane's eyes, perfect pure and sinless and it made her sick. Ayane hated her for her perfection, for her beauty, for her eyes. Even now they looked on her with nothing but compassion. In spite of the years of hate, in spite of her excommunication, in spite of Ayane's attempts on her life, Kasumi's eyes held nothing but love. There was something else within her gauze, a certain wonder. Ayane felt as though she looked into the same innocent and pure eyes she watched when she was young. Kasumi had never grown up and, in spite of her current hardships, she still had a child-like tranquility within her eyes. Every motion, every movement, every breath seemed to cry out that ' I am real and know what I am.' For one lost for her entire life nothing upset her more then Kasumi's self assuredness.  
  
They faced each other for what seemed like eons. There eyes piercing each other with invisible daggers of the soul. It was not that her eyes accused Ayane but the fact that they shone the way they did shamed her. Kasumi's eyes, for even existing, seemed a mockery of her very being. They seemed to say, look at what you could have had, you foolish girl. Then Kasumi looked away, though why Ayane would never be sure. Ayane found herself quietly thinking that the first thing she would do to Kasumi's corps was cut out her eyes. Let such orbs never again cast their glance upon her. More time seemed to pass and neither moved until finally Kasumi made a sound.  
  
It was a quiet sound, the one a person makes when they are attempting to ward off the demons that invariably come with an awkward silence. It sounded like the coo of a dove, somehow. Even this quiet sound she made seemed to be pure and poetic. Then she spoke, in a low whisper, Ayane's name.  
  
The sound of her name uttered by that bitch, the only thing she really had in life, was enough to madden her with rage. And yet her heart jumped to hear that word from her sister's lips again. It was as if it's sound could, in and of itself, ward off the demons that tormented her. It was as if all the hope and poetry of all humanity had been captured by one voice and whispered to Ayane of her salvation. There was something so soft and tranquil, something so nice within it. After what seemed to be an eternity, Kasumi spoke again, in a normal tone, but a soft voice.  
  
"I would like to get into the hotel, please..." Was all she said. Ayane realized that she stood directly in front of the main entrance and must have been blocking it.  
  
Ayane slowly yields the right of way, opening the door for her sister to walk through. She did not take her eyes off her sister because Ayane was not entirely confident in Kasumi's intent. Her sister nodded in gratitude and walked through the open door. Ayane made to walk through the door herself when she heard her sister cry out. She quickly entered what would quickly become a place of death.  
  
The room looked as though a gateway to hell had yawned up and consumed the hotel. Blood splatters stained the white wall, defiling the temple and plunging the purity of this place into a world from which nightmares come from. What had caused the horror Ayane did not see. She did see, however, it's aftermath. The furniture lay broken and destroyed holes of force had indented the solid marble floor. The ceiling seemed covered in blood and the walls, or what was left of them, had begun to cave in. Strangely the windows to the outside world remained unbroken and undisturbed. It seemed wrong that such a fair facade should house such inner horrors. The puddles of blood stained the floor as well, each leading to the broken and twisted body that produced it. She recognized some as fighters and some as innocence, collateral damage. The place seemed to wreck of death and destruction, but something seemed wrong.  
  
Ayane had seen places like this before and had indeed caused such unbridled destruction, yet she felt that no human had could have wrought this end. There was something far more menacing then a man or woman behind it. The miasma that encircled the scene seemed to be trying to suffocate her and draw the life our of her. It was as if evil had became real and taken on a form all it's own. Her eyes scanned quickly, looking for the cause and her concentration was broken only by a sound that seemed to come from an angel crying out because it had forever lost it's wings. Her eyes slowly turned to look at the spot where, logically, her sister would be.  
  
Kasumi was there all right, but there was something wrong with her. She seemed to flicker back and forth between the normal purity and something far more malevolent. It seemed to Ayane as if Kasumi's body emitted darkness and that the gentle sun that had always guarded her had forsaken her. Her head was looking up into the vast ceiling, and the rest of her body had grown stiff as a board. It was as if she saw something casting it's shadow upon the ceiling, something so horrible that she couldn't rip her eyes away. Some distant part of Ayane noticed that the room's smell had substantially increased and it was now as if she had entered a tomb that had been walled up for centuries.  
  
Kasumi again began to cry out but something happened. Ayane was just moving towards her when the screams of agony gave way to a laugh. Now Ayane had known her sister since she was born and she had never thought it possible for Kasumi to laugh like that. Here she was, a trained shinobi and an assassin, tutored in the arts of shadows and yet she trembled at this horrible sound. It was not a noise that any person was capable of making and the fact that whatever had made the sound had used Kasumi's virgin mouth seemed a mockery of her purity. Then Kasumi's head lowered from the ceiling and, for the first time since the cry for help, Ayane looked into those eyes.  
  
They seemed much like the hotel's stained glass windows, masking unspeakable horror with pleasant beauty. But Ayane knew Kasumi's eyes to well to be fooled by this falsity. She saw within that seemingly placid glace horror. She also saw a spark that seemed to battle this stain, but was quickly loosing. The darkness was overrunning it. There was, of course, still a purity there, but it had shifted. It was not the purity of creation, but that of destruction. She saw a new kind of purity, a horrifying abomination. Then the last sparks of the once great fire that had been her sister's true nature left and all that remained was an empty shell. This thing, for it could no longer rightly be called Kasumi, looked right on her and seemed to pierce her soul.  
  
"So, this is the one called Ayane... This body does not wish to harm you, in fact it is doing all it can in it's feeble existence to prevent me from laying a finger on you. Of course this is futile, for my kind has always triumphed over the sons of men. You will die here, my dear... Does that scare you?"  
  
"Who... What the hell are you? Leave her alone, she has done nothing in her whole goddamn fucking life to warrant this!!! Get out of her!!!" Ayane's voice echoed nobly through the halls, though no one was there to hear it.  
  
"Ahh, but I like it here. According to angelology, the higher up the angel, the more powerful a demon it becomes. This body pulses with energy and soon it will be turned on you. She never knew the depths of her powers and it is ironic that it is with these forces that I will destroy you and, ultimately, her."  
  
"No... She and I may have had our differences, in fact I hate her... But not even she deserves this... I was merely going to take her body, but you threaten her..."  
  
"Soul? Foolish child, there is no such thing... You think death means something, that life means something? I pity you and your ignorance. There is no point..."  
  
"Your wrong... Even if we give life meaning, that meaning is still real. She didn't choose this fate and so it's wrong for you, demon, to force it on her" Ayane said, in a low and dangerous whisper.  
  
"Oh, I am far worse than any demon... In fact, far worse then even that foolish old man you call father"  
  
"Don't you ever mention him..." She said, through locked teeth. Her voice was progressively growing in intensity, but the volume, at this point, was barely audible. Yet there was some quality to it that could not be replicated by any amount of sound. It had a strength to it.  
  
"Hit a nerve, did I? HAHAHA. I know what she, this 'Bitch' sister of yours knew. Don't you see yet, your fate was decided by forces so far above your comprehension that you have no hope. Anything you turn will always turn to ash and be blown away on the wind. That is your fate and I suggest you accept it, bastered." The beast had formed an evil smile on the once delicate lips of Kasumi. The voice spoke loudly, yet seemed empty of something. It was as if it spoke the words but didn't have some human quality to it's tone. It sounded more like a force of nature.  
  
"I can still choose how I die!" Was Ayanes retort. And, for the first time, her whisper became a roar.  
  
She charged and, as she did so, she felt the sensation again. Her, the moment, both merged into one being and one action. She wanted this, the world wanted this and soon both would have their way. All she heard in her ears was the sound of her breath and the rythmatic falling of her feat. Click, echo, clock, echo. The world seemed to slow down to a near stand still and the hotel lobby fell away, leaving nothing but the defiler and her. Click, clock. She was carried away by that sound of steps, it seemed to validate her life, prove her reality. Click, clock. Her heartbeat began to drown out even her steps and soon she stopped thinking completely. She threw herself into a corkscrew, defying the law of gravity for a moment, and spun into eternity. She twirled through the air beautifully. The hit seemed a sure thing when.  
  
Back to reality. A pain, an intense searing heat that not even her mental ecstasy could expel. She opened her eyes to find herself leaning on one of the crumbling walls. She looked at her shoulder and realized that, in all likelihood, it was broken. It burned with such intense pain. Then her glance fell on it. It had barely moved it's hand and yet it had...  
  
"You see? You are not dealing with a human, your dealing with something far more powerful. But your not ready to accept that, are you?" It allowed a sick laugh, cracked it's knuckles and then, "It isn't enough that I kill you, I want you broken first. There is a point in every being existence where it will beg for it's own extermination and I want to see you at that point. The tenacious bastered, reduced to tears. A fitting end for a child no one wanted, no?"  
  
Ayane's pain suddenly gave way to a new force, much stronger then the aching. It was a blind rage and it washed over her in a wave. She felt all her muscles tense up and, within that horrible facade of a human voice, she heard everyone who had ever hurt her. The fury, the hate she felt, was enough to consume her and indeed it did. She was not thinking anymore and, forsaking the stone cold logic conditioned into her by her training, she flew into a thoughtless attack. It was different though, there was no longer the merger of actions and she, somewhere inside, knew that to attack this thing head on was pointless. Yet her body raged out of control and flung itself upon the beast.  
  
It laughed and easily side stepped the ill thought out plain to destroy it. Then it effortlessly raised it's right hand and Bamb. Ayane's body flew through the air. It was a breathtaking display, as it flipped over on itself and bent in ways that one would normally think impossible. It turned in space as if there was no gravity and it's shadow faithfully followed it's master. The wall was quickly approaching and all Ayane could do was rotate so her back bore the blow. She then slid down the wall, leaving only a trail of blood behind her.  
  
"You see? You can't win."  
  
Again Ayane stumbled to her feat, her back and arm both crying out for her to stop. She walked towards the creature, feigning more injury then she had. ' If I can get it off it's guard, there may be a chance, but I don't want to kill Kasumi, not like this. Still, I don't have a choice.' She chuckled internally as she realized the irony. ' This is twice I have had to take a life without my consent. I have killed before and I will probably do it again, but these acts belong neither to me nor those I killed. It isn't right.' She felt her left hand wrap around the blade that her father had left her, his parting gift. Perhaps this was it.  
  
"Pathetic little Ayane, fell off the log again? Hurt your footise again?"  
  
Ayane looked up, unable to hid her shock. And then a rush of memories that she only allowed herself to keep in dreams rushed into her waking mind. She saw the log and watched as Hayate, Ryu and Kasumi walked over it, into the forest where they weren't allowed to go. She watched as her younger self began the climb, but fell. Her leg had gotten caught in some branches and, when she fell, it dislocated itself. She hit her head, hard, on the rocks that rest within the river bed. When she came to the first face she saw was that of Kasumi. It held such a worried look within those eyes and Ayane, for the first time, felt as though someone cared. ' Ayane, you mustn't ever do that again. I was so scared.' Kasumi whimpered. Ayane slowly became aware of the tear streaks that stained her sister beautiful face. ' Kasumi, I so sorry.' Was all the young Ayane managed out. Kasumi wiped her eyes and allowed a small smile to form. She then dried her eyes and, in a fake mature voice said. ' Your head is bleeding, little Ayane, let me help.' Kasumi then wrapped a black cloth around her head. This was the first and last time Ayane ever let anyone help her with anything. ' I can't fix your poor footise, but Hayate said he'd carry you. You'll be alright....'......  
  
"How did you know that? I never told anyone about that... I even lied to my mother... How?" She asked bewildered. During this her grip on her father's blade loosened.  
  
"I know all that this vessel knew. Little Ayane"  
  
"Don't call me that!!!!" She screamed in desperation. "Don't call me that!!" She felt tears welling up "Don't...." She whimpered out as the tears, for the first time since her father's death, fell freely.  
  
"Ohh, my poor little sister. Poor Ayane" The voice of Kasumi, once filled with the promise of salvation, now mocked her. "Let big sister make it all better, by snapping that delicate little neck of yours. Then you won't be able to stand up anymore... Like a bird with broken wings."  
  
It slowly drew closer to Ayane, yet it's footsteps left no echo. Ayane felt the blade behind her back and suddenly became reassured in this choice. The creature took it's time, slowly drawing inexorable closer, like an impending storm on the horizon. Soon It's shadow fell on Ayane and then it's form loomed over her. It began to reach for her neck and then...  
  
Ayane felt the warm blood fall down from it's side. She looked at her hands and saw that the blade had wedged itself into Kasumi's side. The blood flowed freely from the wound. Ayane plunged it still deeper into her sister's side and then rolled to the right of It.  
  
Then the most horrible thing imaginable happened. Rather then letting out a scream of terror, the thing began to laugh it's unholy laugh. It echoed throughout the vast hotel, cascading endlessly off the walls. It mocked Ayane. The the creature reached towards the wound and, rather then pulling the blade out, forced it deeper into the open cut.  
  
"MMMM... You have no idea, little Ayane, how good this feels. I have spent more time then you can image in a dark place where feeling anything is impossible. TO feel again, ohh the agony and ecstasy of it all." She turned the blade, causing more blood to gush out. "Now that I am in this sphere, I can easily have a new body any time I want, but you, my dear little sister, don't have that luxury, now do you?" She removed the blade in one sick gesture.  
  
"Your... Your sick" Ayane stammered out, in a state of shock.  
  
"And I am also done playing." At that Kasumi's eyes yielded completely to whatever had taken her. There soft brown glow was replaced with blood-red, much as the sunset had been. It's hair began to spin about it's head and Ayane knew that It was absorbing the ambient energy from around the room. Then, with a flick of it's wrist, Ayane hit the wall, this time without hope of getting up. She lied there struggling pathetically and watching as each step brought it closer. She tried with all her might, and yet she could only move an inch or so. The creature then reached down and, lifting her head by her hair, asked "Any last words as we watch you die?"  
  
Ayane could no longer think. The pain was to much and so her logic fell away. What rose up in it's place were things she had hidden for years but no longer had the will to suppress. Secrets she wouldn't dare trust any with, not even her waking self. In short, the true Ayane was allowed to spring to life. In a trembling and broken voice, she whispered "Kasumi, whatever of you is left, I am sorry... I was...I was" Tears began to fall, though not out of self pity, but something entirely different "Wrong to try and hurt you. I am... proud to have you as my sister and I... I love you..."  
  
Rather then the death blow she expected, she felt her head hit the pavement again. Looking up, she saw the creature grabbing it's head with both hands, as if preventing something from breaking her scull open from the inside out. It let loose, for the first time, a cry of agony. It whipped and whorled itself about so violently that it threatened to break it's own neck. It steadily mumbled something under it's breath and Ayane slowly began to hear it...  
  
... "No!! how dare you!! Your mine now, mine!! Do as I say!! Obey me!!" And then a black mist poured forth from Kasumi's nostrils and dissipated into the air. A hidden camera slowly panned out to show the scene in it's entirety.  
  
"So, the experiment is a failure then?"  
  
"No, not at all. we have completed the work that Himler began in the 30's, we have raised a demon with our neo magic. We controlled it not with weak minded spells but with the power of the microchip and we have the ability to seize control of anyone on earth whom we feel necessary... Hardly a failure...." Echoed Donivan's dark voice. The camera then watched a scene completely different then the battle and bloodshed it had seen before.  
  
Ayane had propped herself up on her arms and managed, somehow, to crawl over to Kasumi. Her sister's head placed gently in her lap, Ayane did the only thing she could think of, she began to sing the song that her mother had always said to rouse them from slumber. ( WARNING; I am not a poet, so this will probably suck... sorry....)  
  
"It's a new day, open your eye. Don't sleep life away Today is a new day for work and play Don't sleep life away You must always give it a try Don't sleep life away And even if you die Don't sleep life away Know that your life meant something simply by Don't sleep life away You being here, my eternal ongoing maricals"  
  
Kasumi's eyes gently fluttered and, as her blurry vision cleared, she said only one word, "Ayane"....  
  
Authors notes; Cheesy? Yea, probably, but that is the way it goes. We all need something to hope for, right?? I hope you liked this... I am toying with writing another alternate ending, but whatever... Thanks for all the reviews and thanks for taking time out of your life to read this, I hope it wasn't poorly spent... Peace...  
  
Ohh yea Gethsemane- according to Christian theology, the place where Christ endures his final temptation... 


End file.
